The Call of The Wild
by DeansHoney
Summary: After a crippling vision gives Sam the heads up on a new demon in town, the Winchester brothers encounter a never before seen creature of European origin. With the visions taking on a life of their own, will Sam be able to cope long enough to kill it?
1. Chapter 1

She was at the window again that night when he awoke. Looking through at him, watching him, beckoning him. At first he had resisted, had stayed in bed next to his wife, willing the girl at the window to leave him alone. He knew what she wanted, and he wanted to give it to her badly. It was a Saturday night when he finally succumbed. Egged on by too many beers and the fact that his wife had rolled away from him the second he'd climbed into bed, he slipped from the bed and walked barefoot out into the cool night air. When he reached the bedroom window, the exact spot he'd seen her, she'd gone. He sighed and turned back to the house, stopping in his tracks as he came face to face with the girl. She smiled at him, a smile that reached her eyes as she stepped forward to take his hand. Without hesitation, he reached for her, relishing the touch of another woman after such a long married life. She started to walk, leading him away from the lights of the house and into the forest surrounding the new gaslight development. Twigs snapped under his feet and the occasional stab of pine needles reminded him this wasn't a dream. She walked quietly but quickly, turning back to look at him, smiling as she led him deeper into the forest. As he walked, he tried to remember the girl from town, knowing he recognised her but unable to settle on a name. She was dressed in a long white gown, her chocolate brown skin flashing tantalisingly at him as she turned and looked coyly over her shoulder. She'd yet to say a word to him, but he felt compelled to follow, deeper, further into the trees. A chill caught up and it whipped around her nightgown, and caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. She stopped suddenly in front of him, and turned. Her eyes flashed a dark shade of green, an unusual colour for human eyes, and he started, wondering what he was doing here, what had made him leave home in the middle of the night to follow this stranger into the forest. She stepped towards him and he inched backwards, the spell broken and his senses on high alert. Her smile turned to a scowl and her head tilted to the side, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I have to go..." he trailed off as she took another step closer, "What are you doing?"   
Her lips parted and she sighed, "Do you love me?"   
He frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion, "I...I don't know you..."   
Her dark hair fell over her eyes as she looked to the ground disappointed. He felt a pang of guilt and reached for her. She slowly looked back up through her hair at him, her green eyes glowing black in the twilight before throwing back her head and screaming up at the moon.

He had enough time to be startled before the screaming burrowed its way inside his head, making his pulse pound hard, forcing his hands to his head as the agonising pain ripped through...

Sam shot up out of bed, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead in agony. A sharp rip of pain tore through his head and a wave of nausea passed over him.

Dean looked up from the laptop he was using, searching for any supernatural activity in the US, looking for clues as to where they were headed next, "Hey Sammy, welcome to the land of the living."

A wave of nausea hit him as he sat up, the room around him spinning. He groaned as he threw himself back down onto the too-hard motel mattress, "Why did you let me fall asleep?"

Dean shrugged, closing the laptop on his fruitless search, and leaned forward peering at Sammy who was rubbing his temples, "So?"

"So, what?"   
"What you got for us?"   
Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling himself slowly to a seated position, his hair hanging over his eyes as he tried to shield away the harsh light from the bare bulb, "Dude, you let me fall asleep so you wouldn't have to search the 'net?"

Dean raised his eyebrows quickly, flashing a sly smile at his brother, "We can discuss my shortcomings as a brother some other time, did you get anything?"

A nod. The slight movement of his head caused a rush of pain and he got to his feet, moving slowly toward the kitchenette arms outstretched feeling around for an empty glass.

"You okay Sammy?" concern was etched on Dean's face as he got to his feet, taking the glass from his brother and running the cool water into the sink.

"Yeah," Sam forced a smile, taking a seat by the table, "I just feel like I've gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. I've got these pains in my head, crazy pains."

"You up to talking about what you saw?" Dean handed the glass of water over, before taking a seat in front of the laptop, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Sam took a long drink from the glass and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the blur that was forming, "I think it was a banshee of some kind. She led a guy into a forest and when he wouldn't seduce her, she screamed and screamed until his head...exploded."

Dean raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, "So, this girl doesn't take rejection well?"   
Sam grimaced and nodded, "Yeah, but she was cute," he paused, thinking back to his dream and the girl, dressed only in her nightgown, "Stunning actually, but then she opened her mouth and his head, it just kinda...popped."

Dean sighed, "Nice imagery Sammy, you got anything else for us?" he asked opening the lap top.   
"Erm, yeah, there was a new gaslight development, that was where this guy lived," he recalled trying to remember the details before they escaped him.

"Good, good, that narrows it down to, oh, I would say, about 49 states."   
"Well, if you let me finish!" he bitched, "It was surrounded by woodland, the sign on the outskirts of the land said that the property developers were Gilmore Estates, and the prefix for the telephone number was a Texan area code. So, you know, feel free to bite me," Sam buried his head in his hands, trying to stop the pains from worsening.

A smirk played on Dean's lips as he entered the information into the search engine, "Touche...bitch."   
"Will you please stop calling me that..."


	2. Chapter 2

As he waited for the information to flash up on the screen (damn slow connection) Dean looked over at his younger brother lying prone on the hotel bed. It was a hard decision allowing him to go back to sleep but the vision of the banshee had hit him hard and the headache was still raging 2 hours later; despite 2 painkillers and 4 shots of Jack. Consideration for Dean to go himself and find the banshee had even passed his lips, then was just as quickly shot down in flames by Sammy who'd almost popped a blood vessel in protestation. He was tempted to just leave as Sam slept, but knew that if he woke up and the pains had increased, he would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened. Instead, he turned his attentions back to the computer, intent on filling in the pieces of Sam's vision.

……………

90 minutes later, he hit paydirt.

"Willoughby Court Park, 2 hours drive from San Antonio. There's a new housing complex being built by Gilmore Estates, and last night police found the body of Daniel Carver 5 minutes from his house, dressed in his pj's, head missing, no sign of a struggle, only one set of footprints leading to the scene, none leaving," Dean pushed the wheeled chair back from the desk, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

Sam nodded his head in approval, "Sounds like the place to start. You think we should check out the wife first? She's got to have seen something."

Dean winced and shook his head, "No can do. His old lady was the one who found his body. She's currently residing in Manor Oaks Psych Ward, courtesy of her headless husband."

Sam took in the new information. The pains in his head had subsided after a short dreamless sleep and upon waking had found his brother ankle-deep in printouts from the net, including some very 'colourful' autopsy pictures of Daniel Carver. He was pleased the lightning sharp pains had gone, his vision had returned to normal and the light no longer seemed to sear into his eyes. It was rare that a vision had this effect and he could only surmise that this was from the actual content, the screaming banshee apparently having a further reach than anticipated. He'd discuss it later with Dean, his brother was on a roll with the investigation and research, and he didn't want to be the one to stand in the way. Hell, it was good to take a step back and allow himself to be carried along…albeit with a crippling headache in the process.

"So, we start with the scene."

Dean rubbed his hands together, a grin spreading over his face, "Hell yeah Sammy boy, I'm ready to get my hands dirty."

"You worry me sometimes."

"Hey," his grin widened and he bent to pick up the papers scattered across the floor, if he was to work, he worked on his own terms, and that equalled chaos, "We've hardy had a thing these last two months, I'm itching for a good demon hunt. I have to get my jollies where I can little bro…I'm holed up in a motel with you 99 percent of the time, you have any idea what that can do to a guy? I love you Sam, but let's face it, you're no Claudia Schiffer."

It was true. They spent 99.9 percent of their time together and even when someone caught Dean's eye in a bar, his night usually ended back at some downtrodden motel with his little brother discussing the merits of Lindsay Lohan over Jessica Alba. It would be enough to drive any man to the brink. And apparently it had. He cast a look at Dean who was packing his bag with a look of amusement on his face, eager for the hunt to start so he could beat the frustration out of himself.

Sam slid his 12 inch knife out from under the pillow, a nightly ritual he'd caught from his brother, and eyed it steadily, taking in the solid handle and the curve of the blade. _Yes_ he thought _maybe Dean had a point, it was about time they got to kick some demon ass._

…………………

Sam looked disparagingly at the array of cassette tapes he had to choose from inside the Impala. He'd managed to slip in the occasion CD unnoticed until he'd taken it one step too far with a Jack Johnson track and had almost been dumped on the side of the road in some backwater town in Nebraska. Dean had pulled the car to a screeching halt on a small country road causing a wide-eyed family to swerve around them, "What is this?"

Sam had started nervously scratching the back of his head, before holding up his hand in defence, "Man, I just thought-"

Dean held up his hand, cutting him off. Taking the CD from the player he wound down the window before throwing it out into the rain sleeted night, "You realise," he said looking at Sam as he pulled the car away from the roadside, "People have been flayed for less."

Sam stifled a laugh, "I just thought-"

Dean shook his head in mock annoyance, "You have nothing to say to me Sammy, I suggest you listen to this track and think about what you just did," he rooted round under his seat before brandishing a cassette in front of Sam, waving it in his face before popping it into the player. A blast of music , and Dean started drumming on the wheel with his hands, his eyes fixed firmly on Sammy, a small smile playing on his lips, belying the annoyance he was aiming for. He raised his eyebrows, flashing his eyes playfully.

"Just keep your eyes on the road," Sam protested, rolling his eyes, laughing "Jackass…"

………………………….

The Gilmore Estates sign rolled by outside as they drove past into the new housing development and Sam felt a flash of recognition. His mind cast back to the vision '_Gilmore Estates, Texas area code'._

He nodded, eyes never leaving the sign, "This is the place."

As if to back up his statement, a cop car ambled past, leaving the wrought iron gates of Willoughby Court Park. The passenger was on the CB radio, but the driver stared out of the side window at the black imposing car parked beside the road.

"What the hell do they want?" he muttered to himself. Two men inside the car, journalists by the look of them. Young upstarts. He'd only just gotten rid of the string of reporters that had shown up to take pictures of the deceased. Disgusting bastards, couldn't let the dead be.

His partner looked up from the radio, over at the car, the inhabitants were talking animatedly, "Journalists?"

"Yep," he sighed, "I'll get rid of them," he slowed the car to a crawl and headed over to the Impala hoping they weren't a bunch of wise asses like the last lot.

He caught the eye of the driver first who motioned to the passenger to wind down the window. They both smiled back, a pair of winning smiles that gave the impression they were up to no good.

"What are you boys doing parked up out here?" the Officer leaned out of the window, looking into the car, "A statement has already been given regarding the incident. If you boys were late you'd better take that up with your Editor," he spat a glob of chewing tobacco out of the car window onto the ground, "Not my problem."

"Did that hit my car?" Dean whispered to Sam, who looked exasperated back at him.

"I'm sorry Sir, we're actually from the FBI," Sam reached into his pocket but the cop immediately reached for his door.

"Just keep your hands where I can see them, son," he got from the car, stretching as his paunch strained at the tight uniform, "Could you boys get out of the car please?" he looked back inside his own vehicle and motioned to his partner, "Give me a hand out here Junior."

Sam turned to Dean, "Why is it never easy?"

Dean scratched at the day old stubble on his jaw, "Dude, did he hit my car with that crap?"

"Are you kidding me?"

The Officer stuck his head back into the Impala, interrupting the exchange, "Some time today would be good."

As they got from the car, they immediately put their hands on the roof, following the protocol they'd become accustomed to. Sam scouted the area with his eyes as the Officers prepared to frisk him. Just past the Gilmore Estates sign was a small clearing in the woodland. He could see the red and blue flashing lights of a couple of police cars, and the bodies of a further 3 officers milling around beside them. A large fence ran part way through the trees, cutting the outside world off from the new development. It looked at least fifteen feet high, possibly electric. This meant, if the demon wasn't of an ethereal form, she must have been inside the Estate the night of the attack. He looked over to Dean, managing to catch his eye. He jerked his head in the direction of the gates and Dean followed his gaze. It rested on a stone dais atop one of the pillars housing the gates into Willoughby Court. A figured gazed down at all those entering or leaving, casting a wary eye over all that crossed its path, a stone creature with marks engraved on its chest, small wings splayed out behind it.

"Look Officer," Dean started "If you just go in my jacket pocket you'll find my ID. We're from the FBI and we need to get inside, so if we could just speed this along a little…"

The two officers stopped their conversation, the younger one given the go-ahead for a search. He reached around into Dean's pocket, sliding a hand up and down the leather to check for any concealed weapons.

"Hey, watch where your hands are going their tiger," Dean wriggled about, a smile playing on his lips until the officer cast him a withering been-there-done-that-look and he reluctantly put his hands back onto the car roof.

"You want to watch that smart mouth, son and just let my officer do his work."

Sam glared at Dean. Sometimes his brother didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. A moment later, the younger officer flourished an ID from Dean's pocket, opening it suspiciously as if he expected it to bite. His resolve disappeared as he saw the badge he'd seen twenty times today, "They're clean sir."

The Officer nodded, before stepping away from his vehicle, "Well I guess you boys had better be on your way."

Dean shrugged his jacket back into place and grinned, "Why thank you Officer, I'll let the station know what a good job you're doing here. Very thorough…"

Sam opened his door, sliding in before realising that Dean was still standing outside the car, having what appeared to be a stare off with the older Officer. He sighed, when Dean got into one of these moods, it was like hunting with a toddler, "Man, will you get in the car," he hissed up at him.

A face appeared in the window, suddenly serious, eyes darting over towards the stone creature as the cop car pulled away, heading reluctantly back to the station, "We're walking the rest of the way Sammy."


End file.
